Rocky Mountain Die (21 page)

Getting me up and out of the tent isn’t the easiest thing in the world. My legs are shit, the wound in my side is like hot fire in my ribs, my head screams, my shoulder screams, and I nearly scream before we get to the wheelchair that sits a foot away from the tent flaps.

I look around at where we are and it takes a while for my brain to make the connections.

“Holy shit,” I say. “Is this a football stadium?” I keep looking, seeing the worn out decorations and symbols everywhere. “Is this Mile High Stadium?”

“It was,” Stella says. “It’s out temporary shelter for now.”

“Wow, we didn’t get very far, did we?” I ask. “This stadium is right in the heart of Denver.”

“No, we didn’t get very far,” Stella says. “And we aren’t sure how much farther we can go. Come on. We’ll find everyone else and get you up to speed and make sure we are all on the same page.”

Stella wheels me over to a large campfire where a couple people are sitting and talking. As we get closer, I can see the profile of Critter and Melissa. Their faces are drawn and they each look like they’ve aged a few decades just since I last saw them. I can’t blame them. Not after what they’ve been through.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m so sorry about Porky and Toad.”

“Thanks, Jace,” Melissa replies. Critter just gives me a nod. “It’s good to see you didn’t die in your sleep.”

Critter snorts. “Ha, that’s exactly how Long Pork is going to die. We’ll all get killed in some bloody attack and he’ll survive it to live to a ripe old age and die in his sleep.”

“Hopefully, you’re wrong about that first part,” I say. “I’d like us all to die in our sleep. A long time from now.”

“We’ll see,” Critter says. “I ain’t placin’ no bets on that.”

“I’ll be back,” Marcie says. “I’ll get everyone else.”

She’s gone in the blink of an eye. The sisters move like that. There one second, gone the next.

Stella pushes me close to the fire and I revel in the heat that comes off of it. The night is scary cold. Has to be well-below zero. At least there’s no snow right now. Stella pulls up a ragged-looking folding chair, tests it, then sits down next to me. We all sit there in silence until the others start showing up.

Stuart, Lourdes, Buzz, John, Reaper, then Antoinette.

“Where’s Marcie?” I ask.

“She went back to bed,” Antoinette says. “She doesn’t stray far from Chuck. It’s cute as hell.”

I wait for Stella to stiffen at the thought that a hot young woman, that is also a trained killer, is curling up next to our teenage son. But she doesn’t stiffen at all. In fact, she seems to relax as soon as she hears that’s where Marcie is. I’m guessing the trained killer part has outweighed the new woman in Charlie’s life part. Being with Marcie is probably the safest sex Charlie could possibly have.

I panic and look around, but no one reacts as if I said that out loud. This is good.

“So?” I ask. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is to figure out a plan,” Lourdes says. “We’ve lost half of our group, almost all of our vehicles and supplies, and still have quite a few miles through hostile territory to go before we arrive at a hostile destination.”

“Won’t be hostile for long,” Antoinette says.

“I know. You keep saying that,” Lourdes replies. “But until we know for certain, I am calling the Stronghold hostile.”

“What about the crazies?” I ask. “How did Mr. Flips get that worked out?”

“Did I hear my name?” Mr. Flips asks as he comes walking up to us. “Sorry I am late. I was dead asleep.” He nods at me and doffs his top hat. “Good to see you up, Jace.”

“Good to be up,” I say and wince. “Sort of.”

“Tell Jace what you know about our new allies,” Lourdes says.

“Well, for starters, calling them allies might be a stretch,” Mr. Flips says. “But we can be sure they aren’t our enemies. If they decide not to join us then we at least do not have to worry about them attacking us.”

“How’d you manage the truce?” I ask.

“As you know, we got more than a few refugees headed our way back at Cannibal Road,” he says. “A few had insight into the workings of Denver. I didn’t take much stock in what they said, especially since they were mostly begging for their lives.” He clears his throat, an uncomfortable, unspoken apology for his ex-cannibal ways. “But there were enough consistent reports for me to put a few things together as fact.”

“Such as?” I push.

“Let him finish, Jace,” Stella says. “This gets interesting.”

“Yes, it does,” Mr. Flips says. “It turns out that down in Colorado Springs there is a special school for special children. Or there was before the world fell apart. This school, like many places around the region, was instructed to evacuate and head to Denver where they were assured safety from the plague that was spreading. I don’t need to tell you what a foolish thing that was.”

“Maybe not so foolish, considerin’,” Critter says.

“Very true, very true,” Mr. Flips says. “This special school was the Colorado School for the Deaf and Blind. All of the children were brought up here to the refugee areas just as things turned very bad. The areas were overrun, the adults were lost to the undead, and the children were forced to fend for themselves. Apparently, they have done a very good job at that.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me that the crazies we’re dealing with are deaf and blind kids?” I ask.

“That’s exactly what I am telling you,” Mr. Flips says. “I happen to know American sign language, just one of my many talents, so that was how I communicated with the young men and women that had us boxed in. I didn’t need to shout, I didn’t need to say a word. I signaled and let my hands do the talking.”

“How in the hell can deaf and blind kids survive against Zs?” I ask. “That’s not possible.”

“One sense is lost and the others compensate,” Mr. Flips says. “The blind can hear and smell the Zs well before they get to them and the deaf can feel the vibrations of their shambling feet and see signs of their passing easily. Working together, they built themselves safe places all throughout the city.”

“Then why are the people from the Stronghold so freaked out by them?” I ask.

“These are children,” Mr. Flips says sadly. “Teenagers now, most of them. They have come across some scary adults and have reacted accordingly. I don’t think the Stronghold people know these kids are deaf and blind. I believe that has contributed to their interpretation as these children being feral gangs bent on violence and insanity.”

“They have trained themselves to strike hard, strike fast, and strike last,” Stuart says. “There hasn’t been a lot of interaction between the groups unless it involves blood.”

“Fuck me,” I say. “That’s crazy.”

“It is,” Mr. Flips says. “But not the crazy we expected.”

“And they won’t join us?” I ask.

“Not yet,” Mr. Flips says. “Perhaps once they see how it all plays out.”

“How does it play out?” I ask. I rub at my head and Stella frowns. “I’m fine. Or as fine as I can be.”

“We should get you back to the tent,” she says.

“We should probably show him what’s coming,” Stuart says. “He needs to see this. Then we’ll all get a little sleep and start planning in the morning.”

“Are you up for a ride?” Antoinette asks, grabbing the back of my wheelchair. She looks at Stella. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead,” Stella says. “I’ve seen it and I don’t think my legs can make the climb again. I’m going back to the tent.” She kisses me. “See you soon. I’ll be awake when you get back.”

“Don’t wait up,” I say. “Get some sleep.”

“No, you are going to want to talk when you get back,” she sighs. “Trust me.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

***

The great thing about being in this stadium is it’s handicapped accessible. Ramps all the way to the top! And that’s where Antoinette takes me. With Stuart and Lourdes right behind, she wheels me to the very top level so we have a nice view of the city of Denver.

I gulp at the sight.

“How many are there?” I ask as I look out at the hundreds of campfires just outside what I think are the city limits. No way to really know without city lights to gauge the boundaries by. “That’s more than a thousand, isn’t it?”

“It’s a lot more than a thousand,” Stuart says.

This far up, I can hear the occasional pop of gunfire. I’m guessing the Consortium army is taking out Zs that get too close to their encampment.

“Estimates?” I ask.

“Rough estimate is five thousand troops,” Lourdes says. “But the sisters think it’s closer to seven or eight.”

“They’ve picked up men and women along the way,” Antoinette says. “The Consortium has kept contact with smaller survivor pockets over the years. Promised them a place in Atlanta if they heed the call when it comes time.”

“Heed the call?” I ask. “That sounds like they have been planning to take Boulder for a while.”

“Exactly,” Lourdes says. “And she doesn’t want Boulder.”

“What does she want?” I ask.

“She wants the Stronghold,” Antoinette replies.

“Huh? Aren’t they the same thing?” I ask.

“No, they aren’t,” Antoinette says. “Not even close. But they have to get through Boulder to get to the Stronghold. That’s why Amy is freaking out.”

Then they explain it to me.

Yeah, I’ll need to talk with Stella when I get back to the tent.

Chapter Eight

I highly doubt anyone really slept through the night. I know Stella and I didn’t. And that meant that neither did Greta or Charlie since we weren’t exactly whispering as we talked. Marcie was crashed out and snoring all night long. She wasn’t too troubled by everything going on. I wish I had the kind of cool that the sisters all seem to possess. They are cucumbers in an inferno of blood and guts.

Stella and Charlie help me out of the tent and I look about the stadium. A couple dozen tents are pitched right on the field. Most are large domes like the one I was just helped from. But a few are classic pup tents, long triangles staked right into the turf. Or what used to be turf. It’s all faded crud now pocked by mud puddles and mounds of dirt.

I can see that we weren’t the first ones to seek refuge here. There are signs that the stadium was used by quite a few more people through the years. The major signs are the piles of bones stacked here and there. These aren’t small piles, like leaves in your backyard. These are mulch yard-sized piles. Massive.

“We cleaned up,” Stella says. “Most of the bones were scattered across the field. All of the entrances were barricaded. Completely locked down. We drove right through one and have the RV there blocking it now, keeping the Zs out.”

“They corralled them in here and then sealed it,” I say.

“They were living here and then got sealed in,” Greta says as she comes out of the tent and stretches. “Someone was bitten or turned and the National Guard blocked them from leaving so it wouldn’t spread. How many did we count?”

“We stopped counting at eight thousand,” Stella says. “No point really.”

“Wait,” I say. “How did you have time to clean all this up and do a count? How long was I out?”

“A full day,” Stella says. “This is day three being here.”

“Day three?” I panic. “No wonder the Consortium is so close.”

“Getting closer,” Stuart says as he jogs up to us. “Come see.”

“Too loud,” Marcie calls from inside the tent. “Trying to sleep.”

Stuart rolls his eyes and gestures for us to follow. We get up to the top of the stadium again and stare at the sight before us.

“Well, at least they can’t move fast,” I say as we watch the Consortium’s army roll into Denver. “Not that we’re exactly mobile and zippy.”

“We’re working on that,” Stuart says. “Brittany returned an hour ago and we’re all set for the next phase.”

“Next phase?” I ask. “What next phase? No one said anything about a next phase last night.”

“That’s because we were too busy telling you about the Stronghold,” Antoinette says as she comes up next to us, two of her sisters by her side.

Lacy and Steph. I think. Hard to keep track sometimes.

“So? What is the next phase?” I ask.

“We take Boulder,” Antoinette says. “We secure that city and in turn secure the Stronghold. Then we prepare for the Consortium. Camille believes she has the numbers to win, which she technically does, but she forgets that numbers aren’t everything.”

“They’re quite a lot,” I counter.

“But not everything,” Antoinette says. “We’ll have position. There is really only one way up to Boulder and we’ll make sure that route is a nightmare for them every step of the way.”

“How many people do we have left?” I ask. “Thirty? Forty?”

“Fifty,” Stuart frowns. “About. But that doesn’t matter.”

“I am obviously missing something,” I say.

“You are, but that’s okay,” Stuart says. He’s enjoying this.

“Just spell it out, please,” I sigh. “The Jace brain is at about ten-percent capacity these days. I spent all my thinking cash on the chain-link cage idea.”

“Good theory,” Antoinette says. “Bad execution.”

“We’ll use the environment against them,” Stuart says. “The one resource we have an almost endless supply of. One that never gets tired and never gives up.”

“The Zs?” I ask. “You want to use the Zs against them? How?”

The enthusiasm for the plan seems to just fizzle away at my question.

“It won’t be pretty,” Antoinette says.

***

I know more than a few of the faces that are revealed as the tarp is pulled back. I don’t know how they got the corpses back here, but they did. Close to twenty of them.

“We chum the water,” Stuart frowns. “It’s downright sacrilegious, but we don’t have the luxury of those kinds of morals at the moment.”

“Chum the water?” I ask.

“Spray the army,” Lourdes says, having joined us. “Mr. Flips will be assisting us. Apparently the Cannibal Road cannies have experience with this sort of thing. They have done it before with some of their...games.”

“We pretty much liquefy the corpses, add to water tanks and dilute the chum so that we have more volume, then drop it on them as they come up the mountain,” Stuart says. “The Zs will go insane.”

“Why don’t we just stay here?” I ask. “These walls are massive. Nothing is getting inside. We quiet the fuck down and let them roll past.”

“Then they get the Stronghold,” Lourdes says. “We explained why that can’t happen.”

“So fucking what?” I say. “They get the keys to the kingdom and all the fun toys. Good for them. What does it matter? We move on. We find somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else,” Lourdes snaps. “Once Camille is inside the Stronghold then she can press a button and we are gone.” She snaps her fingers. “Vaporized in an instant.”

“So you say,” I reply. “We assume things are still working.”

“They are still working,” Antoinette says. “Brittany got confirmation of that.”

“Fine,” I concede. “Camille gets the Stronghold and basically she becomes the one and only big, swinging dick in all the land. She can piss on whoever she wants and doesn’t have to worry about splash back.”

“Really, Jace? That’s the analogy you come up with?” Stella asks. “Jesus.”

I shrug. Then I wince.

“Wait a minute,” I say, finally catching up to what Stuart said. “How are we dropping the chum on the Consortium’s army?”

“Chopper,” Stuart says then smiles.

“One problem,” I reply. “We don’t have choppers.”

“We will shortly,” Stuart says. “You’ll see.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” I yell and receive a wallop of a headache for it. But, fuck it. I’m done with all the word games. “Will someone please just be straight with me? You all are having way too much fun keeping me in the dark!”

“We are taking the choppers from Boulder,” Stuart says. “They’ll be here any minute.”

We are sheltered in one of the ramps that lead out onto the field. It’s as good a place to keep dead bodies as any, I guess. Stuart turns from the corpses and looks out at the field, studying our small group of survivors.

Stella wheels me around so I can see what’s going on. Everyone is breaking camp fast, getting the gear stacked into neat, manageable piles. Others are rushing around with tarps and bungee cords, wrapping a pile up tight then moving on to the next one.

“We hook the gear to the choppers,” Stuart says. “Leaving as much room inside to transport our people. It’ll take a few trips, but we should have enough fuel.”

“So we made peace with Amy and her people?” I ask.

“What? No,” Lourdes responds. “Amy was not interested in peace. She was interested in saving her own skin. That’s all.”

“I’m sure she was interested in saving the skin of her people as well,” I say. “That can motivate someone to do things they aren’t proud of.”

“Bullshit,” Stuart says. “You know why she changed her tune as soon as she realized how many of us there were?”

“Because we would be a drain on their resources,” I say. “We used to do the same thing back at Whispering Pines, Stuart. We’d rarely take in any bums. Just send them on their way or shoot them if they refused to keep moving.”

“Yes, resources played into her motivations, but not in the way you think,” Stuart says. “She ditched us because we would have outnumbered them almost ten to one. Easy.”

“Ten to one? What?” I exclaim. “No way. We met, like, eight of them. And there’s some guy named Crumb too. That’s nine.”

“That’s two thirds of their group,” Stuart says. “Brittany confirmed it. There are fifteen of them altogether. Fifteen. That’s it.”

“Fifteen?” I say, my mouth just hanging open. “No way. That can’t be. How the hell do they only have fifteen?”

“We don’t know the story,” Lourdes says. “Not yet. But we will soon. Audrey is up there right now. She’ll be back with the choppers any time now.”

“But there are two choppers,” I say. “Who’s flying the second one?”

I don’t have to wait too long to find out. The distinct sound of rotors fills the air and soon the two Boulder choppers are cresting the side of the stadium. They hover for a second or two as everyone clears space then they land easily. Well, one lands easily. The other does a little hop before it settles.

And out of the hopping chopper comes Elsbeth. All smiles and big teeth.

“Hey, Long Pork!” she yells as she hurries over to me. “I can fly a helicopter! Did you know I can fly a helicopter?”

“I don’t know what you can and can’t do anymore, El,” I say. “But I am not surprised.”

“I got in and I knew what everything did,” Elsbeth says, like a kid that’s just gone from learning to ride a bike to being able to ride with no hands in a day. “I knew all the buttons and switches. All the levers and sticks. I knew what the pedals do. I could read the instruments. It was great!”

“You nearly crashed it into the ground right after take-off,” Audrey says as she comes up to us. “But you got it together after that.”

“Nerves,” Elsbeth says. “I had the nerves.”

“A little moonshine takes care of the nerves,” Critter says as he comes up to us. “Too damn bad I don’t have none of that. I think we could all use a snort or two.”

“Did you kill them?” I ask. “Amy and her people?”

“What? No, Long Pork,” Elsbeth says, offended. “We ain’t the bad guys. My mother is the bad guy and all her little asshole soldiers are the bad guys. We’re the good guys. Good guys don’t kill dumbasses that have no spines and just want to cry and cry and cry.”

“El broke them,” Audrey grins. “She broke them like the first night.”

“I told them what a bad person my mother is and that she’ll never trade for me,” Elsbeth says. “She’d take me and then kill them all then do whatever she wants to do with the stupid Stronghold place. I said to stick with me and Long Pork and everything would turn out just fine.”

“You told them that?” I ask. “Thanks, El. I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, I told them that because you are always doing stupid things and as long as we do the opposite of whatever you say then we’ll be fine,” she smiles. “It’s called reverse strategy.”

“Oh. Uh. Good,” I reply. “I do tend to—”

“Oh, shut up, Long Pork!” Elsbeth guffaws. “I’m only shit fucking with you! I said that you could help rebuild Boulder and make it strong again. She liked the idea. She was very receptive.”

“You also had just kicked the shit out of her and half her people,” Audrey grins. “That helped with the reception.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Elsbeth nods. “They thought handcuffs would hold me. They were wrong.”

“So now we have their choppers and what?” I ask. “You left them all up there? What’s to say they don’t shoot us out of the sky when we return?”

Elsbeth cocks her head, looks at me like I’ve just grown eye stalks, looks at Stella like why would she let me grow eye stalks, then looks back at me like she’s going to rip off my new eye stalks. For the record, I do not have eye stalks. This isn’t that kind of story.

“Have you ever heard of a place called a jail, Long Pork?” Elsbeth says, talking really slow like I’m addled in the brain. Which, technically, isn’t far from the truth.

“Yes, El, I have heard of jails,” I say. “So you locked them up in one? All of them?”

“Not all of them,” she nods. “Just a few. Enough so she knows that if she messes with us again, her people die. Oh, and I locked up Kramer.”

“She was really happy about that,” Audrey says.

“I was really happy about that,” Elsbeth echoes. “He yelled at me almost the whole way I carried him into the cell.”

“Why’d he stop yelling?” I ask.

“He bumped his head,” Elsbeth says and shrugs. “Six times on the corner of a wall. He’s clumsy. He stopped yelling after that. Probably because he was asleep. He’s old, he needed the nap.”

“I love you,” Stella says and gives Elsbeth a huge hug. “Only way I could love you more is if you’d made a video of it all.”

“Sorry. No video,” Elsbeth replies as she steps away from Stella. She actually looks bummed she didn’t video the whole thing. “I can do it again for you when we get back. You can video it then. Might kill him though. But at least we’d have video.”

“No killing Kramer,” Lourdes says. “He’s still useful.” She glances at me.

“Don’t look at me,” I say. “I don’t want that asshole’s hands in my head ever again. I’d rather have Stinkler in there, even though I hate the man.”